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The monument didn't get his hands right.
Mr. Grace's fingers, cast mid-wave, were frozen in an unnatural stillness Rekha had never once seen from him - not in two years of watching him wave chalk dust off his hands, wave off wrong answers, wave talking students to their seats when the bell rang.
She tore her eyes from his bronze face, his smiling features giving her none of the comfort they once had, and knelt to trace the plaque below him instead, reading the words the rest of the world had given for the three who never came home:
EARTH'S BRAVEST CHILDREN - WHO GAVE THEMSELVES TO THE STARS.
"He'd hate this," she said, quietly.
Parker shrugged, his backpack slung on one shoulder, staring up at Commander Yao and Engineer Ilyukhina flanking their old science teacher in permanent bronze salute. "I don't think I ever saw him stay still."
Wind swept through the courtyard of Grover Cleveland Middle School, sending dry, brittle leaves skittering over concrete.
Someone had left a hacky sack at Mr. Grace's still feet. Beneath it, a graded exam curled in the drizzling rain, red ink bleeding across the crumpled paper.
A+
That was the real monument, Rekha thought.